Slice of Life

New month, 6 months.

Emotions showImage via Wikipedia

This past week: what a whirlwind. Things flew by so quickly that I didn’t even notice that Friday had come and gone until it was too late. Appointments, classes, cooking, etc. Amidst it all, I spent very little time on my computer, which to me is usually a good thing since I don’t like spending hours in front of the computer and over-thinking things.

Yesterday, July 31st, marked six months since that dark period of time for me. Exactly six months–my colleague had once told me how it takes up to six months to completely heal from everything that happens in a traumatic event. I was too quick to recover and be up and running again; little did I realize that my mind, my emotions, were slower to recuperate.
Can I say that I’ve healed a lot during this year? Yes, and no. At times there are still flashbacks, and it’s one of those periods in time where, as hard as we may try to forget about it, it’ll still linger in our minds. I suppose it doesn’t help that the trauma occurred on my birthday, so of course I can never forget it now.
But, really, what good does it do to continue dwelling upon this? Re-hashing the past, trying to think of ways things “could have been” if A didn’t happen or this and that–it’s no use. It just causes more emotional distress, trying to alter the past when that’s wholly impossible. It’s best to continue walking along on this path and just look forward. Keep looking forward and don’t look back.
Enhanced by Zemanta
#amwriting Busride Observations featured Slice of Life

Week in Review: Zero writing but the schedule is coming along

The 4-Hour WorkweekImage via Wikipedia

Oh, it’s the end of the week? Well, it’s the end of the work week for 9-5ers. For me, it’s just my Tuesday. It’s been two months since I decided to really focus on my writing and check out freelancing, but gee, it took me all this time to finally figure out some sort of comfortable schedule.

I had read in a few books and articles about how first-time freelancers/writers going full-time find it hard to really balance out their time for work and play. I knew this was going to happen to me, but I didn’t completely believe it either until I experienced it myself.

Usually I’m pretty disciplined with my time, but a lot of changes were going on around me that it was hard to really set the schedule down. Plus, it’s not like I really need to work on a rigid time schedule these days–I just have to get my hours in somewhere along the week: this many hours for studying GMAT, this many hours for my health/fitness (gym, Wii, etc.), this many hours for spending with loved ones, et. al.

It’s safe to say that my “weekend” now occurs on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, which normally would be just fine by me. But since my GMAT class just started this week, I found myself steeped in homework problems yesterday morning before my class. That’s what I get for taking those two days off! But I’ve learned my lesson and will budget my time more wisely for these next three weeks before my test.

In other news, another Muni Diaries feature today: Learning West Portal the Hard Way

Editor/friend Jeff said I bookended the blog this week with my stories of getting lost on Muni. Nice way to start/end the regular workweek! Now, I must get back to some online drills.

Enhanced by Zemanta
Slice of Life

Spending the First Day of Summer at the Beach–

What a perfect way to start summer off, right? It is such an All-American thing to do but I can’t remember the last time (if ever) I’d gone to the beach at the start of summer. I went down to Santa Cruz yesterday and enjoyed the warm, sunny weather–I heard my mind exclaiming, “This is how I like my summers!”

Living in San Francisco for three years now, I’ve forgotten about the warmth and sunshine that summer entails–you’d think that growing up on the East Coast (where all four seasons are very noticeable) would prevent me from forgetting about summertime. Well, the fog rolling in over the city and the cooler winds blowing through quickly wiped away my memory of hot summers spent outside, riding my bicycle around the front yard of my old house. These days, I only own one pair of shorts and one tank top for those very very rare summery days in SF…or, for when I am able to venture out of the city to warmer places.
Santa Cruz’s Beach Boardwalk is very commercialized yet still has that old-timey spirit to it. I’d been here last year on a field trip with the school and it was an overcast day then. We also unknowingly were able to take advantage of the “1907 Nights” happening on Mondays and Tuesdays after 5pm where all rides are $1/person and some refreshments/retail are also $1 or less. What a steal! We rode many rides after 5pm and fully enjoyed ourselves. We also spent some time on the beach, where the boys ran around like they were ten, chasing and wrassling with one another and disturbing our fellow beach-mates (but it was still amusing).
I found myself sitting behind my camera more than actually running around with the rest of them, but it gave me a sense of pure happiness to capture all the scenes through my lens. In the past year, I’ve lost a lot of passion for photography, so I’m trying to slowly gain back the practice of taking pictures wherever I go. It gives everyday life more sparkle and meaning to have it frozen in time by a photo.
A brief blogging note: I’ll be posting more regularly now on Tuesdays and Fridays. Be on the look-out for my next post this Friday. Enjoy the rest of your week, wherever you are!
Slice of Life

Internal War

The physical recovery may appear to go quickly, but the mental and emotional recovery does not go along as quickly.

My family had said to me last month how it’s surprising that I’m not more traumatized from what had happened to me. My simple response: “I may not appear to be traumatized right now, but it may come back to me later.”

And here I sit now with that feeling catching up to me. A part of me wishes to “get back to normal” but a part of me is saying “stop; don’t rush it.” It is when I’m like that I start to push away others, despite needing the support. The constant war between needing solitude and then needing someone to pick me up from these dredges–it’s enough to make me want to run away.

Yesterday I found myself feeling all sorts of frustration as I strolled around the local mall. I bought myself a small notepad to start jotting down thoughts on-the-go again since I had stopped doing that for a few months. It helps to have a notebook with me, at least to let my mind throw out all the pent-up thoughts. It may not make sense, but it helps to relieve the thoughts stuffed inside my head.

My co-worker told me yesterday that the recovery period could take me up to six months, if not more. The emotional and mental aspects of the recovery come along a lot slower, but the body and mind needs a lot of time. She said for me to be patient with everything, and that’s a hard thing for me to do since I tend to be in a rush with everything.

The weather this week has been gorgeous and Spring-like in San Francisco; hoping for rebirth soon.

My San Francisco Chronicles Slice of Life

Reaching Out on Muni.

It was a crowded 5-Fulton outbound on a Tuesday commute. Somewhere near the Civic Center, a blind man and his girlfriend (also partially blind) got on the bus and were given seats near the front but not next to one another. Closer to City Hall, a boy around the ages of 7-9 got on the bus with his mother and stood near the front of the bus.

The boy had noticed the blind man’s walking cane and began to talk with him.

Boy: “Sir, what’s that stick for?”
Blind man: “Oh, it’s to help me find my way around because I cannot see.”
Boy: “You can’t see? What do you mean? Can you see me?”
Blind man: “Unfortunately, no, I cannot see you, at least not in this dim light [on the bus].”
Boy: “I wish you could see me. I would give you my eyes so you can see.”
Blind man: “You are so very sweet, thank you.”

The boy’s mother, meanwhile, seemed uncomfortable with her son being overly inquisitive with a stranger. She continued to hush and scold him for asking too many questions throughout the conversation.

Boy: “Do you cook?”
Blind man: “Oh, no way, I don’t. But my girlfriend cooks for me.”

The blind man motions to his girlfriend in the general direction of her voice.

Boy: “Oh, you are his girlfriend?”
Girlfriend: “Yes, I am.”
Boy: “Can you see me?”
Girlfriend: “I also cannot see, but I can see better than my boyfriend.”
Boy: “Why can you both not see? I wish I could give both of you my eyes so you can see me and everyone else here.”
Girlfriend: “That’s so very kind of you, thank you.”

The boy and his mother had to get off the bus around Fillmore. Before he got off the bus, he bid his farewell to the couple.

Boy: “It was nice meeting you, Sir.” He takes the blind man’s hand into his own and shakes it.
Blind man: “It was very nice meeting you, too. Thank you.”
Boy: “It was nice meeting you, Miss.” He hugs the girlfriend.
Girlfriend: “You are so sweet, thank you. You take care of yourself and your mother now.”

The boy and his mother exited, and enough seats freed up between the couple so they could find one another again by the sound of each other’s voices.

The whole scene was enough to make my week and remind me of how, despite our differences, we humans will always care for one another in some ways without even being properly acquainted. The little boy, despite not even knowing the blind man and his girlfriend, was so sincere and willing to give up his own eyes for them so they could see. It’s a rare sight (no pun intended) to see something like this on public transportation these days, where the rest of us tend to keep to ourselves and fall into our own worlds while on the bus.